


Glimpses

by sailor8t



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-02 05:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 12,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6552982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailor8t/pseuds/sailor8t
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snapshots of what Jane and Maura's lives could be like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Rizzoli & Isles, but I do like playing with them.

Rationality was overrated, Maura Isles decided as she watched Jane Rizzoli bend over the pool table to line up her shot.

For the last two hours, Maura's brain ran a second track that catalogued each of Jane's movements and its effects on Maura. The early results were definitive sexual arousal and probable emotional attachment.

Jane finished her turn, and expected Maura to make some comment. When she didn't, Jane looked over at her. She recognized Maura's analysis face and wondered which poor sucker was being deconstructed by Maura's oversized brain. Maura wasn't focused on anyone, and Jane took a few long strides to their booth and snapped her fingers in Maura's face, startling her.

"What? Oh, I'm sorry. Did you sink the six?"

"Nope, missed by a foot," Jane answered cheerfully and picked up her beer. "You feelin' all right?"

Maura flushed and stood up. She walked to the pool table and analyzed the layout before lining up her shot. She ran the table effortlessly, stood up, and smiled at Jane.

"Pool shark," Jane grinned at her.

"Simple mathematics," Maura answered. "Do you wish to lose again?"

"No smart ass, I'm perfectly happy just sitting and drinking. You're the one who wanted to shoot pool."

Maura returned her cue to the wall before returning to their booth. "I believe you owe me a drink."

"Yeah, that was the deal." Jane slid out of the booth.

As she approached their booth with a drink for each of them, Maura was wearing her analysis face again, except this time, it was pointed at her. "What'd I do?" Jane asked resignedly as she put their drinks down. When Maura hadn't answered by the time she was seated, Jane prompted, "Well?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Maura finished her old drink and moved the empty glass aside.

"You," Jane pointed at her, "were looking at me," she turned the finger toward her own chest, "with the 'she's going to develop some horrible disfiguring disease' face."

"I have a 'she's going to develop some horrible disfiguring disease' face?"

"You do, and I get nervous when you point it at me."

"To the best of my knowledge, you are in excellent health and at little risk of acquiring _Mycobacterium leprae_ or _Mycobacterium lepromatosis._ "

"What? Never mind. Don't analyze me."

"I was not analyzing you."

"Right." Jane finished her drink and started on the new beer. "Whaddya wanna do next?"

"Go home, I believe. It's nearly midnight."

"It's Friday, and we have the weekend off."

"I'm aware of that."

"And you still wanna go home?"

"I believe so."

"You feelin' all right?"

"Quite well, thank you. Care to join me? I Tivo'd _The African Queen_."

Hepburn was hot, Bogart was great, and Maura was acting a little off, so Jane felt she should keep an eye on her. "Sure."

-30-


	2. Two

When Jane learned Maura wasn't planning on celebrating any of the winter holidays, she was too stunned to ask why, and conversation moved to other topics. That evening, Jane turned the volume down on the Celtics game they were watching. "Why don't you do anything for Christmas?"

"I never did any of that growing up."

"What?"

"My parents weren't religious, and refused to participate in seasonal commercialism."

"You never had a tree?"

"No."

"Never visited Santa?" Jane continued incredulously.

"Santa is a fictional creation loosely based on"

"I know about Santa, Maura," Jane interrupted.

"It isn't a big deal," Maura said.

But it was, and Jane decided that Maura was going to get a full-tilt Christmas. The next day, she summoned Frankie to lunch with Korsak and Frost. "Maura's never had Christmas," she announced.

"You called me here for. What? You mean never? Like *never*?" Frankie answered.

Jane ignored him. "We're gonna give her one. It's her first one, so it should be special."

Korsak and Frankie recognized Jane's enthusiasm, and Korsak turned to Frost. "Lesson the first. When she's like this, just go with it."

"Just for that, Detective Smartass, you're in charge of the tree. No rinky dink thing for your apartment. You've seen her house."

"Got it, boss," Korsak saluted lazily.

"I'll get the rest of the greens," Frost volunteered.

"I'll talk to Pop," Frankie added.

One long lunch and a cohesive plan later, they split up. Jane headed immediately to her parents'. Paperwork was always there, and Frost would call if they got a case. When Jane told her mother the plan, she immediately volunteered to help and invited Maura to the Rizzoli family Christmas dinner.

In the end, Jane got the duty of keeping Maura busy while the others, including a few of Maura's lab workers and other detectives, decorated the house and yard and trimmed the tree. As planned, a little after 10 p.m., Jane drove Maura home. She grinned when she turned onto Maura's street because Maura's house was no longer the dark hole in the decorated neighborhood.

"Close your eyes," Jane instructed, although she knew Maura had seen.

Maura looked at her suspiciously.

"C'mon, Maur, just close 'em. It's not for long."

"Fine," Maura acquiesced, and closed her eyes. She kept them closed as Jane pulled into the garage. "Can I open them now?"

"Not yet." Jane got out and went around to open Maura's door. She led her into the house, one hand over her eyes after she opened the kitchen door.

Her mother was the first person Jane saw in the kitchen, and she nodded to let Jane know everything was ready. Jane guided Maura to her living room, now decorated and full of their friends and colleagues.

"Surprise!" they yelled when Jane dropped her hand.

Maura's eyes opened as wide as they could while she looked around, even going so far as to turn in a complete circle. And then tears started.

"Shh, hey, it's a good thing," Jane comforted and put her arms around Maura.

"It's beautiful."

"So why the tears?"

"I'm happy," Maura assured her.

"Then how about you clean up your face and we'll make a toast."

There were many toasts before everyone left. The mess was limited to a few glasses that wouldn't fit in the dishwasher. Jane and Maura enjoyed the quiet. They turned out the room lights and sat with the tree and fireplace.

"This is one of the nicest things anyone's done for me. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Jane reached out and brushed Maura's hair from her face. Maura was especially beautiful in the uneven lighting. It played off the highlights in her hair.

"You're always doing these wonderful things for me and I feel like I don't do anything for you."

"You do things for me all the time. Right now, you're keeping my drunk ass off the streets."

Maura giggled. "That's not what I mean."

"You don't need to do anything, Maura."

Jane's suddenly serious tone stopped Maura's giggles, but not her smile. "I want to do everything for you," she answered softly.

"You don't," Jane repeated, but Maura cut her off.

"I want to," Maura insisted, taking Jane's hand.

Jane didn't flinch like she usually did when anyone, even Maura, touched her hands.

Maura leaned in close to Jane and whispered, "Let me."

Jane nodded slightly. Her mouth was suddenly dry, her breathing shallow while she waited for Maura.

Maura slid her cheek along Jane's before kissing her slowly. She wasn't at all tentative, just a little surprised and hopeful that Jane would finally accept what was so obvious to everyone else. Jane's willing response put some of her fear to rest. The remainder was susceptible only to time, like the minutes passing in kiss after kiss.

"Wow," Jane heaved.

"Indeed," Maura agreed and looked at their joined hands. That, to Maura, was a greater indicator of Jane's thoughts. Jane didn't even offer to shake hands any more, had gotten out of the habit during the months she rehabbed her hands after her first encounter with Charles Hoyt, but she allowed Maura to examine, exercise, and embrace them.

"Are we?" Jane asked cautiously.

"I'd like to be."

Jane nodded slowly, accompanied by a long, "OK."

Maura's immediate smile set Jane's heart racing again, and this time, she kissed Maura.

-30-


	3. Chapter 3

I want to just make reservations and arrangements and lure her away but I worry about her reaction. We need a break, though, some time away from the frozen horror of Boston's winter. We need time to breathe, and just be each other again. At least a month. Possibly longer. I don't know that I can get her to agree, although a frank discussion with the department psychologist will probably get us both suspended for at least that long. That's probably not the best route, either. Part of the problem is that I want to go NOW, not in six weeks when Jane decides it's all right. So deception it is.

I make the arrangements quietly, relying on people who know how to keep secrets. Jane has no idea what is happening. She thinks we are going to a conference in Florida. I am able to keep my secret until we are settled in the villa. Everything is exactly as I requested.

"How long you been plannin' this?" Jane asks in a neutral tone.

"Not long."

"How long are we staying?"

"Two months."

I made her speechless. I am astonished that it is possible. "I'm going to put on my swimsuit," I tell her, and go back to the bedroom.

She follows me. "What the hell, Maura?"

"We need a break."

"Two months is forever."

"You need the first one just to relax. There is no cell phone or landline service here. There's no computer, and no television reception. There are many books, and there are outdoor exercises."

"I'm not exercisin'," Jane answers sullenly, still mad that I was able to do all of this without her having a clue until the private jet stayed airborne long after the three hours it took to reach Miami.

"Swimming, snorkeling, fishing, kayaking, et cetera," I respond while getting my bathing suit, and go into the bathroom.

"I don't believe you did this," Jane fumes.

"I didn't even have to lie," I call happily through the door.

"You didn't tell me anything."

"I didn't have to."

"Everybody's gonna talk."

"They all ready talk. About which specific set of rumors are you concerned?"

"The one where we're lovers."

I adjusted the almost-there bottom on my bikini, a concession to Jane's body issues, and open the door. "Why do you care?"

"Holy fucking shit, Maura!"

I see as much arousal as surprise on Jane's face. "I'm assuming that's a compliment. Meet me on the beach and we'll talk about it." I do my best not to smirk until I pass Jane. It is highly unlikely we will discuss anything that important today. I hear her bellow my name and giggle. Her bathing suit matches mine, except that it is black and mine is red. But she is wearing it when she stomps on the beach. Who knew that was possible to stomp in sand? I should know by now not to underestimate her.

"You look amazing," I tell her, "and there's no one here but us."

"It isn't comfortable," she whines, and shuffles her feet.

"Then take it off."

"What?"

"We're here to relax. Be comfortable."

"I hate when you do this." She drops onto the towel beside mine.

"Do what, exactly?"

"Take over my life like this. It's exactly why everybody thinks we're together."

"Are you really upset about my actions?"

"No," Jane sighed finally. "Just, anybody this whipped is at least getting laid," she muttered.

"That's your choice," I remind her.

"Damn it, Maura, did you have to go there?" She gets up and stomps toward the ocean.

I bite my lip so I don't laugh aloud, and watch her for a few moments before joining her in the surf.

"Go away," she sulks, and splashes water toward me.

I splash her back, and soon everything is forgotten while we play in the warm ocean.

-30-


	4. Four

It seems to be all I think about anymore. When nothing else captures my attention, I hear Maura: "Let me know what you decide." Not angry. Just. Sad. Resigned. Like she knew better than to expect anything else from me. Ever. Like I'm just like every other idiot in her past, who couldn't accept her, or who used her, or let her down. All the things I swore to myself I would never do to her.

So what makes me any different? When push comes to shove, nothing.

It was my fault. Being drunk isn't any excuse for what we did together, and then what I did alone. I got up from her bed, hungover and freaked out, gathered my clothes, and left. Marissa caught me doing the walk of shame, looked past me, and when she didn't see her, asked, "Where's Maura?"

I fumbled out some stupid answer and slunk into my apartment. The dog, thank goodness, was with my brother for the weekend, so I could fall into bed and ignore everything for the next several hours.

When I woke up in the afternoon, I felt awful. Not physically so much as guilty. I knew I'd been unfair to Maura. I knew she'd be angry. She hadn't called or texted me. I drank a bunch of water and went for a run, trying to. I don't know. Not forget, because it was awesome. It was definitely the best sex I ever had. And it was Maura, which made everything better and so much worse at the same time.

How could I say goodbye to my best friend over something so stupid? I know nobody gave a shit but me. For months, I'd been getting all these meaningful looks and encouraging chats from all corners, even from Ma. Jesus, who was living in Maura's guesthouse, and what would this do to that arrangement?

I don't know how long I ran. I zoned out for part of it, thinking, just thinking about how everything was going to change and how it scared the bejesus outta me. More than facing off with a serial killer, or being shot or blown up.

So I didn't run from her, not exactly, not really. I tried to grow a set and go talk to her after a long shower. I didn't let myself in. I was pretty sure I surrendered that right when I left her.

Maura's face when she opened the door. Just for a moment, I could see all these feelings blow across her face before she composed herself. "May I come in?"

She stepped back and gestured toward the interior of her house. I waited for her to close the door and followed her. We ended up in the kitchen, on opposite sides of the bar. It seemed safer.

"Sorry I took off this morning."

"Why?"

'Tell her the truth. She deserves that.' "Scared, I guess."

"Why?" She tilted her head a little. Processing.

My palms were sweating like crazy and I rubbed them on my pants. "I don't know."

"I can't help if you won't let me."

"I didn't ask you to help."

"Why did you come here then?"

"To apologize. I was an insensitive ass."

"You were," Maura agreed with a ghost of a smile and unwound a tiny bit. "So where does that leave us?"

She sounded timid, completely unlike herself, and my answer didn't help at all. "I don't know."

"Let me know what you decide," Maura said quietly and left the kitchen.

I stared at her back. After a few moments, I went out the back door and over to the guesthouse. Probably a mistake, but I didn't know where else to go. Ma opened the door, took one look at me, and said, "Oh, baby."

She pulled me into a hug with one arm and closed the door with the other.

"I totally messed up everything."

"Shh, it'll work out."

I didn't tell her everything. I don't think I told her anything, actually. And the whole time, all I could think was that I should be with Maura. And that's why I told Ma to take care of her.

* * *

When Monday rolled around, I wanted to call in sick. I couldn't, though. I just had to suck it up.

Maura wasn't a bitch. I think I could have handled it better if she was. Instead, I just got the same politeness, the same courtesy that everyone else got. Nothing more. It was like the secret handshake got changed and nobody told me. The guys had enough sense to keep their mouths shut, but the looks were enough to make me want to throw something.

And it went on for a week. Every day I pretended nothing was different even though anyone could see everything was. I tried to make myself too tired to think at night. That didn't work at all. Instead, I had nightmares. Sleep terrors. Something happening to Maura featured in every one. Waking up alone, sweating, heart pounding, flailing around for my piece since the light was all ready on.

Every night, I stopped myself from calling her to make sure she was all right. Every morning, Ma called me to tell me what Maura did the night before. Mostly nothing. She went out once, to the opera or ballet or something I was supposed to go to with her. Sunday morning, when she called to tell me not to bring anything for dinner, Ma let it drop that Maura had a date Saturday night.

It was like a punch in the gut. If anyone went out with her, it should be me. If anyone kissed her, it should be me. And if I did those things, I'd have to find a way to live in my skin. I suspected it would be easier than the past week.

So I went to dinner. I caught Maura alone long enough to ask whether we could talk later, let her go on after she nodded. We ate and I fooled around with my brothers, and we all cleaned up and Ma dragged the boys away.

"You wanted to talk," she said in the kitchen, arms folded.

Right to it, ok. "I'm an idiot."

With a small nod, she encouraged me to continue.

"I don't know what I thought was gonna happen. I mean, this has been happening since we met. I thought about it a lot. I thought about us. About being friends, and being something else, too. And that's what I want, if it's what you want."

"What's to keep you from tearing off again?"

"My word." When she didn't say anything, I kept on. "I was wrong, and I promise I won't do that again. I'm all in, if you'll have me."

"This is our relationship, not a business deal."

"I know that."

"Yet you make it difficult to differentiate."

I nodded. She wanted words, even though they wouldn't change anything. I wanted to say them. I felt the things that made me want to say them. Saying them would make me what everyone said behind my back and sometimes to my face, but I sucked it up and said them anyway. "I love you, Maura."

She looked at me for what felt like forever, studying me like she did the computer when she worked on the program for deciphering micro expressions. Then she dropped her arms and moved forward and we were hugging. It was the best I'd felt in too long.


	5. Chapter 5

"Are you all right?" Jane asked again. Maura's silence rattled her. The bit of profile she could see, and Maura's partial reflection in the dirty glass - nose prints courtesy of Joe Friday - weren't enough for Jane to gauge Maura's feelings.

"I'm fine," Maura repeated, as she had every time Jane asked that question. In the hospital emergency room, Jane approached her cautiously. 'She thinks I'm in shock,' Maura realized. But she wasn't. She was considering all the implications of her actions. They were myriad, and affected lives beside her own. Jane gunned through the yellow light, but caught the next red. She took the opportunity to observe Maura, but learned nothing new from the set of Maura's face. She tentatively put her hand on Maura's shoulder, and got the first real reaction from her.

Maura twitched at the moment Jane's hand folded over her shoulder, but after that, she turned her head enough to lower her cheek against Jane's fingers. "I'm fine," she repeated, eyes closed.

"Ok," Jane agreed, and closed her eyes for a moment at the feeling of Maura's cheek. The next, she reminded herself that it did neither of them any good. A brief trip down the "should we be dating trail" hadn't worked out despite their obvious physical attraction. It was Jane's fault, and she would freely admit to her refusal to commit, partially because of Hoyt. She returned her hand to the wheel and her attention to the street. Maura was her priority now, her only priority since she was physically escorted from her desk to her car, told which hospital to go to, and instructed that neither of them would return until someone near the top of the food chain so decreed. She didn't know yet what Maura had done. Allegedly. Jane hoped Maura still trusted her enough to tell her when she was ready to talk.

The ride to Maura's home continued in silence. Jane pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. Maura didn't move.

Jane said her name, but hesitated to touch her, and said it again before Maura turned toward her. "You're scarin' me."

"Sorry," Maura apologized automatically. "Do you want to come in?" Manners, ingrained in Maura since infancy, were a great help.

"I think I should."

Maura nodded absently and opened the car door. Jane scrambled out and around, and hovered near Maura while she made her way inside. She didn't make any of her usual stops, and went directly to the master bath and started filling the huge tub.

"Are you hungry? Want a drink? Anything?" Jane asked.

"I'm going to take a long bath, and then I'm going to bed," Maura explained. "You don't have to stay. I'm fine."

"You keep saying that, but you don't look fine, and you don't sound it."

Maura left the bathroom. At her dresser, she removed her jewelry without looking into the mirror. She wasn't certain she wanted to see what Jane saw, whatever it was that made her not fine. She needed time and quiet to finish working through all she had done and fit it into her self and world image. Jane was making it that much harder, and at the same time, Maura was grateful for her presence. If she felt the need to fall apart, Jane would hold her while she pulled herself together.

Right now, though, she was alone. She heard Jane in the kitchen, the low tones of conversation, the opening and closing of the refrigerator, the snick of a knife on the cutting board. Jane was undoubtedly calling someone to fetch Joe Friday, and fixing something for Bass, and probably something for them, as well.

The hot water and bubbles were soothing, and Maura let the taps run a little longer after she submerged herself. She laid back and closed her eyes, knowing what she would see.

Understanding the physiological and psychological reasons for seeing the past hours replay on her eyelids didn't make it easier. The thoughts that helped - that he would never hurt anyone again, that Jane would have no new nightmares, that he wouldn't infect anyone else's life - could deflect for only so long the truth.

She was like him, and like her father, and like everyone who willingly took a life without remorse.

Maura was completely unlike Jane, who even with the perfect opportunity and a better reason, did not murder her tormenter.

Every time Maura heard the murmur of Jane's voice, she moved, splashing water enough to drown it out. She couldn't when Jane knelt beside the tub, offering a glass of wine. "Frankie's gonna get Joe when he finishes his shift."

"You don't need to stay."

"I want to stay, Maura," Jane pleaded, worry evident in her tone.

"I'm fine."

"It would be a lot easier to believe if you didn't keep saying it over and over."

"I'm not sorry for what I did."

"They should give you a freaking medal. Hell, I'll give you a medal."

"I'll be lucky if they don't lock me up," Maura answered, her tone still flat.

"They won't."

Maura cracked one eye. Jane was stating a fact, not her opinion. "How do you know?"

"I made a few calls."

"What did they tell you?" Jane didn't answer immediately, and Maura opened both eyes. "What did they tell you?"

"Why were you in there anyway?"

Maura lowered her head and closed her eyes before answering. "I had a question."

"You couldn't use the intercom?"

"No."

"So what happened?"

Maura shrugged slightly. "He attacked me. I defended myself."

"You always carry a scalpel?"

"Yes. Can we please talk about something else?"

"Really."

"Yes, really."

"Ok," Jane paused. "Aren't you supposed to keep your stitches dry?"

"You're loving this, aren't you?" Maura glared at Jane.

"No." Jane shook her head slightly, completely serious. "I wish he never knew anything about you."

"I'm not sorry."

Jane looked at Maura, and nodded slowly. "I, uh, I made us some something to eat, but it'll keep."

"Thank you." Maura sighed and flicked the drain with her toe. "I'll be out soon."

"All right." Jane left the bathroom, still trying to wrap her head about what Frost told her. He watched the interview room recording, calling a play by play while Jane sliced a meal for Bass and a few things for she and Maura. There was no audio and no real need for it. Maura entered, spoke with Hoyt for less than a minute before he jumped at her, somehow free of the belly chain, and jerked the metal of his handcuffs against Maura's throat. She in turn fumbled in her purse, and came out with a scalpel, which she wielded precisely to make him let go.

She didn't yell for help until it was obvious Hoyt was dead. Maura Isles stood over the body of the man who tormented Jane Rizzoli and watched to be certain that he bled to death. Cause of death is exsanguination. Manner of death is homicide. Maura hadn't even realized he had something sharp until she turned for the door, and grabbed her side. She paused and pulled her hand away, looked and put it back. Hurried to leave the room.

There was the ambulance, and the polite EMTs, and the intern who carefully put a baker's dozen of stitches in her side and kept assuring her that scarring would be minimal. And then there was Jane, and Maura didn't know how to explain it. She wasn't lying; she was fine, although there would be much rumination over whole affair. She wasn't the least bit sorry for any of her actions, or her inaction. No matter from what angle she addressed Charles Hoyt, his death was a contribution to the greater good.

Jane was still in shock, though, after Maura's confession. She wanted to know why Maura went back to that room, to his presence, after deliberately sending Jane away, coaxing her to run some ridiculous errand. Did Maura go up there with the intention of ending Hoyt's life? Did Jane really care whether that was the case? No one would miss Hoyt. No one would mourn his death. The freedom of that knowledge, that he would pursue her no longer, made Jane dizzy. She could have her life like it used to be.

Except that she couldn't. Other things conspired to change her so that the life she had before Charles Hoyt trapped her in a basement was her childhood, and the time since a stormy, uncertain adolescence. Now, she supposed, she should become an adult, have a real relationship, do all those things her mother wanted.

It wasn't going to be what anyone expected. Or maybe it would be. The last time they tried to date was a nightmare of anxiety on both parts. This time, Jane would let things happen like they always did, and name them afterward. They were both a lot less nervous about trying a new restaurant than about going on a date with each other. Maura did something amazing for her, and Jane wanted to give what she knew Maura wanted in return, something just as huge and amazing, and it started with Jane taking care of Maura tonight, as Maura had done every time Jane picked up some minor or not so minor injury.

Maura was true to her word and entered the kitchen a few minutes later. "Thank you for taking care of Bass."

"You know how he gets."

Maura nodded.

"Sit down."

Jane put plates on the table, salads, sandwiches, iced tea.

They ate, but didn't talk, and Maura sat and watched Jane clear everything away. When she finished, Jane leaned against the sink and looked at Maura.

"You're being too quiet," she announced.

"There's nothing to talk about. Although I do need your assistance. I can't reach all of my stitches and I think that rather than taking an oral painkiller, l'd prefer the antibiotic cream with lidocaine."

"How many stitches?"

"Thirteen."

Jane winced.

"Fortunately, none of them will interfere with my undergarments."

"Where's the antibiotic cream?"

"In the master bath." Maura got out of her seat and left the kitchen.

Jane followed Maura through her bedroom into the bathroom. Maura pulled the tube from the medicine cabinet and handed it to Jane. She unfastened her pajama top and slipped it off one shoulder, making certain to keep her breasts covered with her other hand.

Jane winced again, at the bruises on Maura's side. She reached out, and barely brushed Maura's torso. "Good thing he's all ready dead." Half a second later, she began applying the cream to Maura's injury. She finished with the lightest of kisses just beneath it.

Maura stood still, dozens of thoughts bouncing through her head, until Jane slipped the sleeve over her arm and returned it to her shoulder.

"It's been a long day," Maura said.

"I'm staying."

"You really don't have to."

"I want to, Maura. I worry about you, too, you know. And I don't want to be alone. If I am, he'll be all I'll think about."

Maura nodded. "He's taken far too many nights from us."

Jane nodded. "He has. C'mon," she encouraged Maura toward the door with gentle pressure against her lower back. While Maura got in bed, Jane pushed her work clothes off and pulled a pair of boxers from her drawer in Maura's dresser. She put them on and got into bed. "C'mere," she said, and waited for Maura to move closer.

They made themselves comfortable, Maura's head on Jane's shoulder, their arms around each other. Jane waited for Maura to say something more, but let her stay silent. Sometime later, when Jane was certain Maura slept, she kissed Maura's head before closing her eyes.


	6. Six

Nothing has been the same since that day. I can say without hesitation that it was the worst day of my life. I hope that there is never another like it. One good thing came from it, one very good thing that, as wonderful as it is, can never wipe away the fear that something will happen again. It gnaws at me every time they call her out, which is far less than it used to be. She spends most of her days behind a desk now, and her next promotion will move her further upstairs, away from the morgue and the homicide bullpen. She'll try to decline, but in the end, she'll accept. I don't think I'll even have to ask her this time.

She was still in intensive care when we had a screaming match. I initiated it, and there is no excuse for my behavior, although there are mitigating factors. The first person who came through the door to end it was greeted by Jane telling her, in her best cop voice, to "get the fuck outta here." Her eyes came back to mine. "How could you think that?"

"You shot yourself!"

"I shot Marino. My body was in the way."

"Stop that! Stop it. You did something insanely reckless without considering the consequences for a nanosecond."

"If I'd'a done that," Jane answered quietly, serious, "I'd be dead."

Before I can answer, a security guard enters, and Jane orders him out, too. He tells her to keep the noise down and leaves.

And she looks at me again with those dark, dark eyes. "I was very careful to stay away from the really important parts, Maura."

"You scared me," I whispered, and had to look away.

"I scared me," she answered, and one of her scarred hands reached out.

I took it. Strong, beautiful, elegant. Exactly like her. I do not want to live my life without her. I look at our hands together, my right, her left, and think, 'Her wedding band will be wide so there's no mistake she's taken. Platinum so it can stand up to what she does.'

"I won't leave you," she promised me.

"Marry me," I answered, wanting everything with her and unwilling to wait any longer for her to figure it out.

She didn't say anything, just nodded, and again and again until I worried she developed a tremor.

"Is that yes?" I finally asked.

"Yes," she answered in her usual voice, confident, certain.


	7. Seven

"I need you to tell me the truth." Maura Isles couldn't believe her attempts to get a straightforward answer from her friend…or whatever she was…forced Maura to actually corner her in Maura's very small, neat, organized office.

Jane Rizzoli's eyes darted around, looking for a way out. Unless she suddenly learned to teleport, there wasn't one. She needed space, she needed air, she needed to be anyplace that wasn't here. This was way past flirting, over the shifting line they kept redrawing at the border of their friendship.

"Will you?"

Jane nodded.

Jane had yet to look at her, but Maura continued. She was out of patience with their situation and tired of puzzling over it. "How do you feel about me?"

Oh, that was a topic best tackled after many beers, and maybe a couple shots. Because what she felt and what she was willing to own up to were completely different, and that was as much self-examination as Jane was willing to do sober. "You're my best friend."

"That's not an answer." Maura needed specifics. Her mind needed facts to analyze, or in this case, an admission which would probably not be forthcoming now.

Jane gave mental thanks to Frost for calling. Hopefully, he had some news about a case. She smiled weakly at her friend and pulled out her phone.

It was promptly removed from her hand and turned off. "We're having a discussion."

"That could be important."

"Frost can wait a few minutes."

"Maura, can we please not do this now?"

"When are we going to talk, Jane? You've been avoiding me since we went undercover."

Jane ducked her head more to keep Maura from seeing her face and analyzing what she was thinking, since Maura hit on exactly the reason Jane was running for cover.

"Well?" Maura demanded impatiently.

The door to the autopsy suite opened, and Jane looked to see who was there. Frost. 'Excellent.'

"I don't care who's out there. You're not leaving until I get a definitive answer from you."

"Tonight, ok?"

"Nice try, since we're scheduled for dinner with your family."

"After dinner. Your place."

Maura wasn't happy, but it was better than nothing. "Fine," she snapped.

"I'll pick you up around six." If she drove, and if they talked at Maura's, she could leave if she had to.

Frost rapped on the closed door. Jane held up her index finger and he nodded.

"I have to go, Maura."

She hated those words, but stepped aside.

* * *

After she and Frost finished interviewing the witness, Jane raced home. She had enough time to walk and feed the dog before she had to leave to get Maura. Joe Friday, at least, was happy to see her, and she drew out their walk as long as she could.

At 6:05 p.m., she knocked on Maura's door. Half a minute later, Maura opened it. She had her purse and two other small bags in one hand, but didn't give anything when Jane offered.

Dinner, as always, was delicious, and the bags contained dessert. Jane and Frankie were assigned dish duty while the others went to the living room. They played rock-paper-scissors to determine who washed and who dried the dishes, and went to work.

Frankie cleared the last few things from the table while Jane filled the basin. They worked quietly for a while.

"You feelin' all right?" Frankie asked.

"Yeah. Why?"

"You're too quiet. Fight with Maura?"

"Sorta."

"Whose fault?"

"Whose is it ever?" she sighed, and rinsed another plate.

"Well, you better fix it, 'cause Ma's in there gettin' her side."

"Crap."

Frankie laughed. "Crap? Man, you are so whipped."

"Shut up!" She smacked the back of his head, leaving suds behind.

He kept laughing, and Jane ignored him. She fumed at the dishwater. Frankie wasn't helping. She so did not want to have the discussion Maura was forcing, but she didn't want to lose her friend, either, and she never had a relationship of any kind last more than six months after sex was involved. There was no way she could win.

"Oh, c'mon, it's kinda funny."

"So glad you're amused by my pain." Jane rinsed the last handful of cutlery and dropped it in the drainer. "You can finish the rest on your own." She left the kitchen and went to the living room.

Jane and her mother were sitting beside each other on the couch, talking softly. She sat next to Maura and looked at the television. How did she really feel about Maura? They certainly had chemistry, and Maura was beautiful, but there had to be more than that. Since there obviously was, would it be enough? Jane was well aware of her own shortfalls as a romantic partner, and hadn't even attempted to seriously date since Hoyt. She stopped on his name, unwilling to go further than that acknowledgement.

That was the crux of it: He promised he would return for her, and she didn't want to be responsible for getting someone else hurt or killed, especially anyone she cared about. Anyone she dated was immediately in his sights. It was the reason she kept her visits to her family to a minimum, the reason her social life was limited to after work drinks or work-related events.

Maura nudged her. "Ready to go?"

"Sure. Thanks, Ma, dinner was good." Jane got up and kissed her father's cheek. "Bye, Pop."

Jane turned on the radio in the car so they didn't talk. When they got to Maura's, Maura pointed her toward the couch, and joined her a few minutes later with water for both of them.

"I suppose you want me to begin," Maura said.

Jane nodded.

"We've been dating for months. Are you just not interested?" Maura asked bluntly.

"I'm interested." Jane told the truth; Maura would know if she lied.

"You have a strange way of showing it."

"What do you want from me?"

"I want a real relationship."

"We have a great friendship."

"It's lovely, and I want more."

"I can't."

"You won't."

"Fine, I won't."

"Why?"

Jane hated saying his name, hated acknowledging him at all, but her hands unconsciously came together. "Hoyt."

"He's in jail. They're not going to let him out."

"He'll be back," Jane answered grimly. "And I don't want you anywhere near me when he is."

"I'm not afraid of him."

"You should be."

"Because you are?"

"It's one reason." Jane looked at her hands, twisting against each other.

Maura moved close enough to put her hand on top of Jane's, stilling them. "You can't let him run your life."

"If something happened to you, I don't know what I'd do," Jane whispered.

"Nothing's going to happen." Maura put her other hand under Jane's chin and raised her head. "You won't let it."

"You don't know what he" Jane began hoarsely.

"Where is he?" Maura interrupted.

"Huh? Jail."

"Where are you?"

"Here."

"You beat him. You did your job, and he lost." Maura stressed he last two words. "All he can do is talk, because you won."

No one put it in those terms before. They all acted like she did something wrong, but grudgingly respected her for surviving it, even her family. Maura was the first person to believe in her, and that tipped the balance. Not sure what to say, and knowing what Maura wanted, she kissed Maura. It was awkward at first, but still wonderful, and improving each second as Maura pushed them down on the couch so she was atop Jane.

"You're mine, not his," Maura said, and kissed Jane again.


	8. Eight

She was a little drunk, but that was understandable, given her job. And she had the night off, no calls to answer, no dinner with the parents. Just an evening to unwind, with her dog and overdue laundry and enough beers to be buzzed. She was thinking about dinner when the doorbell rang.

She took her gun with her to answer. There were too many whackos out there, and one in particular kept his eye on her, and she just couldn't be too careful.

Who stood outside her door was dangerous in a completely different way, and she ignored that hazard to open the door. "Maura," she greeted with a wide smile, "what are you doin' here?"

"I know the state of your refrigerator and figured you have nothing to eat, so I brought dinner."

"And beer?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. In the trunk." Maura handed over her keys after Jane stashed her weapon in her waistband.

Maura greeted Joe Friday properly before proceeding to Jane's kitchen. It was not quite a mess, but nowhere near as clean as Maura's. She chose to use the table and began to gather what they needed for dinner.

Jane knocked at her own door and shifted the bags while she waited for Maura. When Maura opened the door, Jane headed directly for the kitchen, and put the bags on the counter beside the refrigerator. She put the bottles in, and kept one for herself. "Does the wine go in here, too?"

"No."

Jane stood up and opened the door. "That looks good."

"I'm glad you approve. Would you open one of the bottles, please?"

"Does it matter which one?"

"No."

They ate in the living room, and Jane cleared the dishes and came back with a fresh beer and Maura's wine. Soon, she was sleepy, and as she slipped down, Maura led Jane's head to her lap.

Jane tucked her legs so she fit on the couch, and was completely asleep seconds later. Maura watched her, and finally gained the courage to stroke her hair. Odd, since when they were awake, she had no problem touching her. And wanting more.

She had no idea how Jane felt. Although she was fairly adept at reading her friend, she wasn't at all certain whether Jane was interested in sex, much less sex with her. After the disastrous date with Jorge, Jane refused to let Maura even suggest a possible love interest.

But Jane trusted her in everything else. For now, it would be enough.


	9. Nine

Days aren't a problem. There's light, and Boston homicide Detective Jane Rizzoli keeps an eye on her personal perimeter, and no one can sneak up on her.

Nights are another story.

Not every night, like it was at first, but there are still enough of them that she knows no matter what her life looks like, something inside is broken.

She doesn't tell anyone, because that's the same as admitting she can't take it, and she has never done that. The department shrink didn't know about these nights. She didn't tell him anything of importance, just the facts from the official reports. He finally cleared her to return to duty because of pressure from Rizzoli's superiors. He had no idea whether she was fit to be back on the streets with a loaded gun, but her co-workers stood up for her. They kept their suspicions to themselves, just like they didn't ask Jane how she was. There was gossip, because there was always gossip, but no one had first hand information.

Last night was the third consecutive night that she slept in one or two hour intervals. In between, there was sitting up sweating and screaming or moaning or, most mortifying, crying. There was also the clockwise sweep of her apartment, done completely in the dark. She checked every lock, looked behind every door, and under every piece of furniture, and hated herself for doing it.

At least she had Friday off. She could sleep during the day, when it was safe, and Jane was looking forward to it.

At 3:24 Thursday morning, though, Friday seemed like forever away. She gave up on trying to sleep and took a long shower, dressed, and went to work. It would be quiet for a while, and she could work on the backlog of paperwork that never got caught up, and feel safe for a while.

By the time the others arrived, Jane filled their inboxes with case notes, questions, and ideas. Detective Vince Korsak groaned, Detective Barry Frost got to work, and Medical Examiner Dr. Maura Isles e-mailed asking if Jane wanted to have dinner or drinks or both after work. In return, Korsak got the finger, Frost got coffee every time Jane got up to get more, and Maura was invited to family dinner. She could hold the guys at bay with her attitude, but Maura would want to talk, and dropping her into the Rizzoli household guaranteed it wouldn't happen. Maura answered affirmatively within seconds, and Jane called her mother to let her know they'd need another place setting.

They didn't get called out, but Jane still managed to avoid Maura until just before 5 p.m. Maura walked into the bullpen, saw Jane, and stopped. Jane looked awful, like someone who was chronically ill. Maura schooled her expression to neutral and came all the way in to the cramped office and sat in the chair beside Jane's desk. "Ready to go?"

"In a minute," Jane answered without looking away from her computer. Her fingers worked the keyboard steadily for three and half minutes before she stopped typing and clicked to save her work. She logged out and turned her chair toward her desk, then stood up. "Do you mind driving?"

"Are you feeling all right?" Maura stood up, too, and followed Jane toward the door.

"I'm a little tired."

Maura was still learning about her friend, but knew her well enough to translate 'a little tired' into 'completely exhausted.' "Are you sure that's all?"

Jane held the stairway door open for Maura. "Yeah, I'm sure. Ma's makin' manicotti. She was still ditherin' about dessert, so I voted cannoli for both of us."

"I'm aware. Your mother asked me to bring it."

On cue, Jane's stomach growled. "Shouldn't have skipped lunch."

"Why didn't you call? I would have brought you something."

Jane shrugged and kept moving down the steps. Two more flights to the lobby.

"It's not healthy to skip meals, Jane."

"Yes, Mom, I know."

"It wreaks havoc on your blood sugar," Maura began.

Jane sped up a little, and waited, holding the door open. "Can we save the lecture for another day?"

"Like you'll listen to it then."

"I listen," Jane protested. "I just don't always do what you want."

"You do what you want."

"Yeah." Jane pushed through the glass door and held it so Maura could pass. "Don't feel special. I ignore everybody the same."

"I noticed." Maura pointed in the direction her car was parked, and they fell in step. "Have any plans for your day off?"

"I'm going to be lazy and do absolutely nothing." 'Except sleep, I hope,' Jane added mentally.

"How can you do that?"

"Years of practice?" Jane offered.

"Amusing, but don't give up your day job."

Jane dramatically clasped her hands to her chest. "I'm wounded by your accurate use of sarcasm." She laughed.

"Accuracy matters," Maura laughed with her.

"No, that's size."

"What? Oh, that's not true."

"Wait. Don't, please don't go all sex Wikipedia on me when I'm sober."

"Is it all right when you're inebriated?"

"We'll find out another night that we're not having dinner with my parents." Jane looked across the car roof at Maura. "Shit, that means you're going to"

"Language." Maura opened her door and got in.

"get me drunk and talk dirty to me." Jane brightened and got into the car. "We can let Korsak and Frost listen in for fifty bucks each."

"No," Maura said firmly.

"Oh, c'mon," Jane teased while Maura started the engine.

"When I get you drunk and talk dirty to you, you won't want any witnesses for what happens after," Maura said confidently.

Jane stared at her, mouth open.

Maura realized she'd crossed that line again, and decided she didn't care. She flat out lusted after Jane Rizzoli, who was either the dimmest detective in Boston, a wonderful actress, or completely unaware of Maura's feelings. More and more, Maura's conclusion pointed to clueless. It was amusing that Jane, who was so good at reading everyone around her, didn't pick up on Maura's slow seduction, which just hopped up into a higher gear.

"Nothing to say, Detective?" Maura couldn't resist teasing.

"You're killin' me, Doc."

"Oh no, that comes much, much later," Maura answered flirtatiously. At the look on Jane's face, she decided she should stop before Jane's head exploded and changed the topic. "We don't have to stop. I had dessert delivered."

Jane's brain was still on the track where Maura was hitting on her. "Huh."

"I believe your mother will approve."

"She approves of everything you do." 'Except maybe taunting me with sex,' Jane mused. 'Shit, Ma'd probably tell Maura she's doin' the perfect thing.


	10. Ten

We spent last night apart. Tradition. Jane is funny about them. We haven't had sex yet, although it's been a struggle to stop many times. I put my foot down about a bachelor party. The last thing we needed at our wedding was half of guests and one of the brides showing up hungover or, knowing them, still inebriated despite anyone's best intention. She hasn't seen my dress, or the clothes I chose for her. She nodded her agreement when she saw the completed rings, and went with me to choose a cake, and to the florist. That and a few phone calls are the extent of our preparation. Judge Reynolds, who went to school with my father, my adoptive father, is delighted to perform the ceremony. My parents are here. I am quite surprised that they came, but I suspect their delight with me will be dulled when they realize who I am marrying. They've always been snobs.

I am dressed and ready and waiting, thinking about what I'm about to do, and the woman I'm tying my life to. It is the only decision I haven't second guessed. Thinking about her makes me smile. Those are just two of the reasons we're doing this.

I am so looking forward to seeing her. The green silk shirt goes perfectly with the emerald earrings her mother gave her, and brings out the tiny bits of color other than brown in her eyes. Her hair will look lovely against it, too. Trousers, shoes. I want us to be comfortable, and although Jane will wear dresses, she is never comfortable in them or dress heels. My dress is a little fancy, as Jane would say, but not over the top.

"Maura?" Frankie calls after knocking, "you ready?"

Oh, yes. I've been ready for a long time, far longer than Jane, and open the door.

Behind Frankie, Jane stands, eyes wide as surveys me, and I don't even notice that Frankie is gone until Jane takes two steps across the hall to me. She takes my hand, raises it to her lips, kisses it. "Let's get married."

I return the gesture, my eyes still locked with hers.

Judge Reynolds smiles when we approach. "Ready?" he asks quietly.

I nod, and so does Jane, and he begins the traditional wedding ceremony. All of the blah blah blah is for the others; I'm waiting impatiently for the important part. The part where we reiterate the promises we made to each other long ago. I answer, "I do," and Jane answers, "Yes," and she kisses my hand again after she slides the wedding band on, and then we are kissing, and there is clapping and the occasional whistle. Jane's smile is more brilliant than I have ever seen it, and I do not need to analyze her facial expressions for cues to her emotions. I can feel it, her love for me, and her joy at our union. It's warm around me. I hope she feels mine. I was right about the ring. It is beautiful on her hand. Over the next few days, we will be reminded of our wedding as our brains prompt us to notice the small change in weight our bodies carry.

While we pose for photos, she murmurs that I am beautiful and that our vows forgot ravish. I shiver and wonder whether the rush of arousal her words cause will show on the photos. It takes forever for everyone to leave. I call her name and she comes out of the kitchen, and a sexy lazy grin comes onto her face. "Botticelli," she says, moving to meet me halfway.

"What?"

"You look like a Botticelli painting."

I kiss her. She kisses me. Scoops me up when we stop. That's sexy, that she is strong enough to carry me and willing to do it. She sits down on the bed and starts to work on the zipper of my dress. I don't have to prompt her to be careful with the clothing. "Do you like the dress?"

"I love the dress. The woman wearing it can make a paper bag look good." Jane slides it down my shoulders. I see her pleased surprise that I am bare beneath the silk. "I'm so glad I didn't know this when I saw you or the guests would have been waiting a while."

"Mmmmm." Her hands feel wonderful, and I kiss her and unbutton her shirt. We've been waiting forever. In less than a minute, we're both naked in the middle of the bed.

The clothes will have to wait.


	11. Eleven

"When were you going to tell me this, Jane?" Maura demanded angrily. She was ready to leave. Her house was empty, contents in storage until she found a suitable place in Los Angeles. A cab was on the way. Maura had a large suitcase, her suitbag, her laptop bag and purse waiting in the foyer one more time. Maura's vet was boarding Bass until they had a home. And now, after months of avoidance and silence, the woman she loved more than any other living being stood beside those bags, She did not look well, but she was beautiful to Maura.

"I'm tellin' you now," Jane explained patiently. She and Maura were so similar in some ways, and sometimes had to be led to the obvious conclusion. As long as Maura was in Boston, Jane could maybe figure out some way to apologize to Maura. When she learned Maura was leaving - leaving Boston altogether for a new job - her stomach dropped. She felt her friends' sympathetic eyes. Everyone, every single person they knew in common plainly told Jane she was an idiot, and she still could not bring herself to apologize.

"My cab will be here any moment. And it's too late for apologies, Jane. I waited. I hoped. But if that's how you truly feel, I don't see any future in Boston."

"It's not. You know how I say stuff before I think about it."

"But you meant it."

"I'm sorry I said it. I'm sorry I hurt your feelings."

"But you meant it."

Jane hung her head. At the time, she was angry with Maura over buying her a dress and heels. It had been a long week, and she wasn't in the mood to go out, much less indulge Maura in someplace that would charge them too much for far too little food. She wanted to sit on the couch and relax, but long before their reservation came around, Jane delivered a spiteful diatribe about Maura's money and the ways in which she spent it. She slammed the door on the way out of Maura's house, and slammed her car door when she got in, and slammed her fists into the steering wheel. Maura made her crazy with this shit. She hated the whole dress-up thing, although Maura adored it. Maura picking out something for her that Jane could never hope to pay for rubbed Jane's nose in the differences between them. Although she know it wasn't Maura's intent to make her feel sleazy, it was how Jane felt. Kept, like a kept woman, and she couldn't reconcile their relationship with that feeling. Even if Maura didn't have money from her parents, she still made five times Jane's base salary, and they would always have that inequity.

Maura kept her inner turmoil from Jane, hidden behind the mask of years of training in remaining silent. She wasn't certain what she would say, anyway. She didn't look away from Jane, etching details into her memory. "Goodbye, Jane." Maura slid by her and opened the door.

Jane didn't move. She listened to the cab noises, the engine fading away, before taking a slow walk through the empty house. Everywhere she saw memories and might-have-beens, and silently berated herself for both. Eventually, like Maura, she walked out the front door for the last time.


	12. Twelve

Another fucking week. Another week of not enough sleep, meaning almost none for her, because when she's stressed, when she's away from Maura, her personal monsters storm her barriers even more, and she doesn't really give a rat's ass _what_ her lieutenant owes his equal in Narcotics.

An unmarked car shows up behind her, and before she realizes it, Barry Frost has handcuffed her. He threatens to taze her when she struggles, and she remembers what that feels like. She's pretty sure he won't do it, but better safe than sorry.

"What the fuck, Frost?" she asks as he pulls away.

"Easiest way to get you outta there without blowin' your cover."

"Not that I'm not grateful, but what's goin' on?"

He doesn't answer, but she can see his anxiety.

"Frost," she threatens.

"There was an accident," he says, and flips on the vehicle's lights to move traffic aside.

"What?"

"There was an accident," he repeated. "Maura's fine, the baby's fine. There's nothing to freak out over."

"Oh, right, like you cuffing me and putting me in the back seat didn't freak me out. What the hell happened?"

"I don't know. I'll get you the report as soon as I can."

Frost may be a wuss at bloody crime scenes, but he is unrattled by Boston traffic, and after 20 minutes, he releases her outside the emergency room of Brigham and Women's.

Her mother greets her at the entrance and pulls her toward the elevators. Maura's been admitted as a precaution. She's fine. The baby's fine.

Jane wonders how many more people will tell her this in a tone of voice that's meant to soothe her but makes her crazed with worry.

Maura is definitely not fine. She has an IV and bandages and bruises, and Jane flies to her. She drops the hospital rail and sits on the bed and holds Maura's hand in both of hers in her lap. Maura doesn't move, and Jane doesn't breathe for a long time. Her hands, around Maura's, shake. She cannot lose her, lose them, and the life they're building together. And then Maura squeezes, ever so gently because it's winter and Jane's hands always ache from the cold, and Jane takes a stuttering breath.

"We're both fine," Maura says softly.

"Ok," Jane answers, believing it from her because Maura still can't lie. She twists and leans and gently kisses Maura's swollen lower lip.


	13. Thirteen

It's easy to forget exactly how strong Maura is. She's small, and doesn't advertise her strength, muscles forged in the ballet studio, at the riding stables, in the fencing arena, and honed by yoga, running, the odd hour of laps in a pool. And moving dead bodies. It's always a minor shock to see her turn a corpse twice or three times her weight, even though Jane knows exactly what Maura's muscles look like as they move under her skin. She's seen Maura at yoga, in the BPD gym, wearing a sports bra and spandex, shiny with sweat.

It shouldn't be a surprise when Maura quicktimes her to the spare room, demanding in her oh-so-polite way that Jane get some rest. But it is, every time. And every time, Jane gives in. She doesn't really understand why, since she fights everyone else about everything. EVERYTHING. But she never offers Maura more than cursory resistance. She looks forward to Maura's guest bed, soft sheets over a firm mattress, a light floral fragrance, Maura's company and her perfume, which doesn't clash with the scent of the bed linens.

Jane dreams when she is with Maura, but they aren't the terrors that rip her from sleep, gulping down air, looking frantically for the monster that is coming for her. Monsters, she remembers from reading long ago, are supposed to be beautiful. Hers is not. He is not attractive, or charismatic, or special at all except for his obsession with her. Sometimes Jane wishes she killed him when she had the opportunity, and remembers that she didn't because she didn't want to sink to his level. The two times she had no choice but to take a life were to save others'. Knowing that she made the right decisions those times didn't make it any easier to sleep, but that faded as time passed.

 


	14. Fourteen

Jane Rizzoli woke slowly. She was warm and rested and safe, things alien to her for a long time. The cause of those feelings lay almost completely atop her, and Jane's arms circled a small waist to hold her best friend close. She kept her eyes closed, unwilling to do anything to disturb the complete contentment of this moment, or Maura Isles' sleep, which was frequently as infrequent and irregular as Jane's own. Jane ignored the small wash of guilt; Maura's life was small and quiet and safe until Jane decided they should be friends.

She ignored, too, the small voice that suggested they could be so much more. 'This is enough,' she argued with herself, and broke her hold to touch Maura's hair. Her hand moved deliberately from the back of Maura's head, through the silk smooth hair and across silk pajamas. It was comforting, and she did it again, and again. Maura moved slightly, more firmly into Jane's body, but she gave no indication that she was waking.

There was no hurry this morning, no need to turn off the alarm or wake Maura or answer the phones. They were off for three days, ordered to stay out of the office, and they were halfway to Jane's before Maura realized that Jane's boss didn't have the authority to order her to do anything. Jane chuckled, her exhaustion lighter for a moment, and Maura poked her, careful still to stay away from immediate area of Jane's most recent on-the-job injury, and Jane grabbed and held Maura's hand. Serious again, she told Maura, "You did good, you know."

"I do, but thank you. And you did most of the work."

"Couldn't have done it without you. And Frost," she added as an afterthought. "I really should teach him how to kick those doors open before he hurts himself."

"Mmmm, probably. If he dislocates his shoulder, you'll have to break them down." Maura yawned discreetly.

Within an hour, they were in Jane's bed, six respectable inches between them. Now, the only way for them to be physically closer would be if they were nude. Jane sighed unconsciously. She usually didn't dwell on those thoughts, but there was little else on her mind this morning. She didn't care about being called names; they'd been fired at her as long as she could remember, usually in anger. She didn't really care what the church thought, either; she was indifferent at best, despite enforced religious education. Her family had dropped anvil-sized hints over the years that they didn't care who Jane loved as long as she was happy (and, in her mother's case, provided grandchildren to extravagantly spoil).

Past relationships all ended for the same set of reasons: devotion to her job and the concomitant scheduling chaos, unwillingness to share her inner life, and a deep uneasiness at the thought of spending her life with one person. None of those things were true with Maura. They worked the same odd hours; Maura regularly understood her better than Jane knew herself; and Jane's bone deep peace and contentment when surrounded by Maura, the weight of her body and her scent, Maura's hand resting on her shoulder.


	15. Fifteen

Jane hates stakeouts. She really hates this one, which isn't for one of her own cases, but Marquette loaned her to Narcotics for a month, and she's been bored out of her skull, sitting in a car that is significantly crappier than her personal vehicle - and that's saying a lot - watching delinquents sell rocks of crack to junkie hookers. Four hours on, eight hours off around the clock. Except her relief is always late, and tonight, the son of a bitch didn't even show up. She got a text from her temporary sergeant telling her to stay put. 'Great, another four fucking hours with nothing to do.'

Having nothing to do always leads her to thinking about Maura. Everything leads her to Maura, Jane has come to realize. It seems to be a good thing. She's calmer, and although Maura swears it is a byproduct of yoga, Jane's positive it's a byproduct of Maura's company since she noticed it waaaaaaaay before she let Maura sweet talk her into going to yoga at least once a week. And yoga was a whole new world of hurt, literally at first, because she didn't normally use those muscles, and figuratively later as she watched Maura stretch and flex and pose and generally be all kinds of hot.

It seemed like lately all of her Maura thoughts led to sex. It was the first time in her life that Jane was ever so strongly attracted to anyone. She was still getting used to the idea that all those people she ignored through the years might be right. Even though the Church says it's a sin to even have these thoughts, in the unlikely event that she could get Maura go agree, they can legally marry. Thinking about being married to Maura doesn't freak her out like even thinking about being married to anyone used to.

Jane checked the time and sighed. She couldn't wait to get back to Homicide, where, unless there was something pressing, at this time of day she would be headed down to the morgue to meet Maura so they could go for after-work drinks. Maybe at the Dirty Robber, where they know everyone. Maybe at Maura's, which meant she would cook and that was always good, or Jane's, where they would have takeout unless Jane's mother had come by to clean and leave something in the refrigerator.

So this was another night shot. No music, no television, no beer, no coffee, no Maura.

She can fix the last, at least a little, and sends Maura an apologetic text that they can't meet tonight. Again. She adds :( to the end of her message.

Maura sends it back.

 


	16. Sixteen

I've never been one for touching or being touched. Since Hoyt - and I hate the pause my brain delivers before his name – even more so. I am so self-conscious about the scars on my hands. I almost completely stopped touching anyone. They still touch me, hugs from Mom and Pop and Frankie, awkward pats on the back from my co-workers, but I rarely return them. I don't shake hands. I try to keep them out of sight. No one looks at them or touches them other than doctors and nurses and therapists.

Except Maura.

I don't know why I don't give her shit about it. She looks at them and knows exactly how much they hurt. She does things to them that make them hurt less. She holds my hands so I won't rub the scars, trying, I guess, to erase them, even though I know that won't erase my memories.

Her hands are the only thing about her that give away her job. They are smooth, soft, and strong. She can't hide that strength like she does the rest of hers, behind makeup and pretty dresses and nice manners. Her hands move bodies, cut them open, examine them. They direct a scalpel with surety and precision.

My hands, though, always give me away. They shake, and I still have these involuntary spasms, and they hurt. They always hurt, and the things I do for my job often make it worse. Typing. Shooting. Cuffing a suspect. Writing.

Other things that I used to enjoy make the ache worse, too. Playing the piano. Cooking. Folding laundry, although if I get it from the dryer while it's still warm, it isn't too bad.

Heat helps; cold intensifies the pain. Pills don't help, and neither does drinking, and neither does obsessing over everything.

Maura helps.

I don't understand the mechanics of it – that's her department, and she uses about a thousand really long words that I don't understand to explain it – but she does. She knows when and where they hurt the most, and she gently moves things around and the pain, well, it doesn't leave, but it's more tolerable. She doesn't look at me with pity before or after. During, she's completely focused on my hand, talking softly to herself, and when she's finished, she has this, "I did good, I'm so proud of myself" smile.

I have to smile back.

I've become accustomed to her touch. She's the only one who never makes me flinch. She has a long-assed explanation for that, too, one that makes me nod in agreement so she'll keep talking and I can keep watching her lips, thinking things about them I shouldn't.

I wonder if she'd still smile indulgently if she knew what I was thinking.

"You're not listening," she accuses.

"I am."

"You agreed to go to the petting zoo and get your picture taken on a pony," she answers, exasperated.

"Sounds fun."

"Jane," she says, and swats at me.

I laugh, but promise, "I'm listening now."

"I asked if you wanted to get dinner."

"Love to." I'm still smiling. So is she.


	17. Seventeen

A medical conference took Maura to Los Angeles for a week. After the third night, Jane gave up on sleeping at her place, packed up the dog and some clothes, and went to stay at Maura's. She was all ready there in the morning and at some point in the evening to care for Bass.

Being in Maura's home, around her things, didn't really make her feel any better. Not even sleeping in Maura's bed helped. It was really nice, comfortable, and it smelled like Maura, but it wasn't the same as being beside her, listening as her breathing evened out into sleep.

Jane's phone rang at 8:30 p.m., and she smiled, recognizing Maura's tone. "Hey."

"Hello, Jane. How are you?"

"Ok." 'Now,' she added silently.

"How is Bass?"

"He's fine."

"He's eating?"

"Yup, and drinking, and doing all those turtle things he does."

"Tortoise," Maura answered absently.

"What are you doing?"

"Preparing for bed. There's a fascinating seminar tomorrow about advances in DNA testing."

"Have fun with that." Jane paused. "Are you all right? You sound, I dunno, tired."

"I haven't been sleeping."

"Me either."

"Are you dreaming?"

"Not like that. I just can't get settled."

"I miss you," Maura sighed.

"Yeah, me too. But you'll be home Saturday, right?"

"Yes."

Through the phone, Jane heard Maura moving around the hotel room, and after a bit, heard a light switch followed by rustling fabric, and knew Maura was in bed. "Sweet dreams."

"Call if you need me."

"Guess we'll be on the phone all night."

"I don't mind."


	18. Anniversary

Her calendar is filled with anniversaries. There are birthdays, weddings, and days blocked out. This is one that hasn't been transferred from one calendar to the next. There's no need for her to write it down, no need to remind herself to call the travel agent to make arrangements for this annual trip.

In what was once her favorite town, she stops at the liquor store and florist, and at her last stop, Maura Isles sits in her car, staring at nothing for a long time before she gets out.

It seems wrong that it's sunny today, just like it was that day.

Maura kneels between the headstones. She begins on her left, clearing away small weeds, brushing blown grass from the headstone, replacing spent flowers with fresh. She pulls one beer from the bag, opens it, and puts it in front of the marker. "I miss you, my friend," she says, and pats the stone.

After a few seconds, she turns her attention to the second marker. She performs the same rituals, although more slowly because it is hard to see through tears.

When she is satisfied with her work, Maura opens two beers. One goes in front of the headstone. She rests her empty hand on it while she drinks the other. It tastes more bitter than usual, but that is no surprise since beer stopped tasting good long ago.

She finishes the bottle, leans over, and kisses the headstone. She pats the other one again and slowly gets up.

In the car, she takes one last look before pulling away, and it takes everything she has not to break open again.


End file.
